


GAME_OVER

by Dogielder



Category: Ed Banger - Fandom, Electronic Dance Music RPF, Justice (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Utopia/Dystopia, Animal Familiars, Dreamlike, Fantasy, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogielder/pseuds/Dogielder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>INSERT_COIN_TO_TRY_AGAIN</p>
            </blockquote>





	GAME_OVER

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from, forgive me. Will probably have more chapters eventually, but no set end number.

The first thing he registers is the beat: Thump thump thump thump... and the second thing he knows is that it's his heartbeat. The world around him is silent enough for it to be clear to  
him. And it's cold. Very, very cold. Goosebumps writhe across his skin as he feels the persistent breeze shift the dark hair around on his forehead. He registers light somewhere.

'Should I even open my eyes?' comes the thought.

And that is a fair question- should he? Certainly nothing good would be of this sort of cold and silence. He senses nothing around him, just the breeze, the cold, the silence, (excepting the thump thump thump of his heart) the hardness of what he's laying on, not to mention the fact that it's slick with something.

No. Probably nothing good will come of opening his eyes. He does so anyway.

###

He stares blearily down the street, squinting in the fluorescent streetlamps. His eyes flick to his hand, letting his thumb rub at the rain drenched wood beneath him. He can barely feel his fingers.

'I should have kept my eyes shut.'

He hates this place already. He knows he must go on, though. So, shakily, he presses one hand, then the other down against the wood, managing to get himself into a semi-seated position on his side. This minor effort is exhausting, he notes, taking a few deep breaths and also finding the way that air rasps in and out of his chest to be unlikable.

After a time, and much exertion, he is leaning back on his bench he has, wet from the rain and a fair amount of sweat. He examines his bleak surroundings. Ahead, it is an asphalt road lined by skyscrapers that meld into the complete blackness that is the sky. He can see where other roads intersect further down, for it is one hundred per cent flat and all of them have the same bright white lamps to light the way.

He knows, with no doubt, that he is completely and utterly alone in this place.

All too suddenly, there is a loud noise, one that he cannot describe. A type of explosion, perhaps. All he knows is that another source of light has snapped on. He attempts to crane his neck around to look, but he can't look up at what is being illuminated.

Standing up is even more difficult than getting seated, and taking a few baby-steps back to see is harder still. But he gets there. Squinting against the glare, he can finally see what it is: a billboard, on a cinderblock wall that extends upward just as the buildings do into nothingness. Floodlights above it put it in a clear spotlight.

It reads:

\- YOUR NAME IS XAVIER  
\- STAY ON THE LIGHTED PATH  
\- SUPPLIES WILL BE PROVIDED  
\- IGNORE ALL OFF THE LIGHTED PATH  
\- DO NOT TURN BACK  
\- TERMINATE ALL THINGS YOU COME ACROSS  
\- FOLLOW THESE RULES AND YOU WILL BE SAFE

Xavier reads the board once. Twice. Three times. He loses count. Eventually the lights snap off again. Still he stands, gazing up in a stupor, until his muscles give out and he has to collapse back on the bench.

"X-a-v-ie-r..." he mumbles, testing his title, his label, out. It's a shock to realize that his own name is his first word here. He revels in the fact that speech, communication, is a thing. "Xavier." it comes again, slightly louder. But he stays quiet after that, sensing that this would be for the best.

The newly-named Xavier shuts his eyes, and sleeps once  
more.

###

It's the sharp jabbing pain in his gut that awakens him this time. He has slid back into a more laying position while he was out, and he pushes himself up once more with a groan. A soft slapping noise catches his attention, eyes flicking open to see what it was.

A small package lays on the ground. Xavier gingerly picks it up, water dripping off and onto his dark grey shorts, the only article he is wearing. The message on the plastic reads:

\- EAT THIS

So that's what the pain in his gut was. Hunger.

Xavier gulps down what was in the package. It tastes disgusting and he gags, a mixture of that and the fact that he shouldn't have eaten that fast. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a gleaming metal water bottle sitting on the armrest.

\- DRINK THIS

The water inside is probably the coldest thing he's ever felt, teeth starting to ache with only a tiny sip. Still, it does feel nice, and he slurps until he is no longer thirsty. Feeling slightly better, he glances about and finds a few things underneath the bench: a large, waterproof satchel stuffed full and a heavy looking pair of boots. They are both in the same dark grey color, and he leans down to pick them up.

Inside the satchel, Xavier finds a matching set of clothes - t-shirt, longer sweatshirt, pair of pants, socks. All are made of some unidentifiable material. He also finds a book and a pen. On the cover is the rules that were posted on the board, and the blank pages feel waxy. Xavier discovers more of the food tucked into pockets in the bag.

With stiff, trembling limbs, he struggles to get the clothes on, which he finds to be blessedly warm.

'Follow the lighted path.' he remembers. Xavier clips the waterbottle to a loop on the satchel, glances around to make sure he hasn't left anything, and shuffles on his way.

Even though the clothes are nicely insulated, most of his body is numb and he can barely move his fingers. He has balled the sweatshirt sleeves up around his hands, and shoves them up his shirt to try and warm against his stomach.

He sure hopes part of the supplies means a warmer coat and some gloves.

**Author's Note:**

> well, I sure hoped you liked this weird little thing I wrote. The Justice fandom needs more fics I tell you...
> 
> this is severely unedited so if you see something that needs fixing please tell me!


End file.
